


That Four Letter Word

by SirCakesALot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love, M/M, Pyromania, Pyromaniac Stiles, Running Away, Scared Stiles, because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCakesALot/pseuds/SirCakesALot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles ran away and Derek stayed. Stiles left a note and Derek read it. When Stiles returns, Derek has questions. When Stiles returns, Stiles is no longer the coward who ran. This Stiles knew what he wanted. This Stiles was dangerous. But Derek seemed to be drawn to the dangerous ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a cross over no one wanted, but I will do it anyone because why not

**I hate to say I love you. It hurts me each time I utter that four letter word. I hate to say I want you when you make it clear you don't want me. Why am I the only one who feels this pain? I'm such a fool. Despite my misguided love, I know exactly what you'd say. You would tell me you were sorry and I’d believe it. Then you would tell me you love me, just not in that way. And I would take it. I would understand your reasoning. Knowing all this, I still felt compelled to utter those for letter words. I love you, I want you, I need you.**

****

**Can you tell I long for you? Lately you have grown distant, pushing me aside. That is how I know I am pathetic. How I realised just how dependant I am. You make it so clear. Voicing my feelings would get me no where. So that is why I broke when I finally told you I need you. Why did I have to be so reliant? You will never know this feeling. This gut wrenching feeling. It hurts. Words cannot explain the pain radiating from under my chest, all they can do it state the facts. All words can do it say those four letter words that my lips cannot.**

**I’m such a fool. I am a fool for falling in love with you. Maybe if we meet again, I could ask you and it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t love me in that way.They say the purest expression of grief is screaming the name of a foreigners God, so it only makes my sense when I choke on those words late at night. I have always been a slave to my cowardice, so it doesn't concern me that I am shamelessly running from what I am feeling. It doesn't matter.**

**Take care of this town, because someday I will be back to take what is mine.**

**S.S ******

 

Gripping the letter tightly, Stiles scent had already faded, lost to the world. Scrunching his eyes shut, Derek struggled to gather his thoughts. Was this really it? Was Stiles leaving for good? Derek was lost to his own grief, reading over the words like they held all the worlds secrets. And Derek understood. 

His God's weren't enough to shoulder his sadness


	2. Derek - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is mourning the loss of Stiles when he is given hope

Stiles has been missing for four hundred and eighty-one days, not that Derek is counting. Many times Derek caught himself reading Stiles note, a note he had yet to show anyone. It was too personal, and he felt as though it would betray the fragile trust Stiles had shown the world. 

It was strange. Despite Scott’s words when they noticed Stiles missing, he had not acted upon a single one. Instead, his focus was on protecting the pack. His pack. And it was falling apart around him. Liam was a broken youth, Malia had gone feral. No one knew just how important Stiles was until he vanished. No one understood just how important he was until he wasn’t around. No one realised just how much we took his hyper energy for granted until there was a gaping hole in each of us. 

Derek ran his fingers along the porch railing lazily, debating on whether or not to turn the lights off. He had moved deep into the preserve, but he found himself hoping the missing boy would find him. Only two others seemed to share his views, something that fuelled his rage. Numerous people had taken advantage of Stiles, Derek included, and yet only three people mourned their lose. Lydia, the sheriff and himself. 

Having been a man who refused to cry, he spent many nights feeling nothing but the lose of a man he had grown close to. It was a foreign feeling, losing someone and knowing they are out there somewhere, probably not spending a single night thinking about him. Everyone who had left Derek had left him for the reaper, not because of a heartache. If only he had used his words, he knew he could have been holding the skinny boy in his arms, watching the stars from his window together. Derek knew he could be happy if he could have worked through his own grief. 

The four glowing letters told him it was midnight. After so many days, the pain only grew. No one knew how Stiles was, whether he was even alive. The sheriff and Derek depended on Lydia to tell them that. As of yet, she had not screamed for Stiles. For the first month or so, she told us that it was building. But as that feeling dissipated, so did Scott’s interest. Growling to himself, Derek sat upright. He had exhausted all his contacts within America and Mexico searching Stiles. It was like the boy had vanished. 

But he couldn’t be dead. Lydia would know if he was. Reaching for the letter on his bedside table, Derek flicked on his lamp for a better view. From days of abuse, the paper was crinkled, the ink leeching through each crease. Almost unreadable, Derek still kept it close. It was the last thing Stiles had left for him. Once again, he found himself crawling from his bed to the window sill. Staring up at the sky, he gazed at the moon. Was Stiles looking at the same sky? Derek found himself thinking back to the time Stiles had fallen asleep on his couch, the innocence painted across his face. 

These scars bleed, but Derek wouldn’t have it any other way. By tearing himself apart, he was remembering Stiles. 

A shrill ring broke the silence. Walking to his phone, he saw the sheriffs name flashing on the screen with a sense of aggression. Answering the call, he brought the phone up to his ear. Before he could utter his broken hello, the sheriff spoke, snapping his world into focus.

“Stiles sent me a message.”

Dropping the phone from his ear, Derek felt his heart beat awkwardly in his chest. Stiles had reached out. Stiles was contacting us again. Looking out at the sky once more, Derek followed the trail of a shooting star. 

“What did it say?” Derek asked, his voice raw.


	3. Stiles - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs to come back to Beacon Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows, I never write in third person. It kills me to. So this is a first time thing to write it all in third person.
> 
> I hate it.....

Stiles wanted to get better. It wasn’t a spontaneous decision to run, not something he came up with on the spot. This action was a reflex to the life he had been given. Shorthanded by everyone Stiles knew, treated like a worthless thing that only tagged along for an adrenaline rush. Stiles didn’t realise he was lonely until I saw Derek with Braeden. He didn’t know he was broken until he wanted to change. To get better. And Beacon Hills was killing Stiles. So he fled.

It wasn’t a single thought, it was a buildup. When Stiles had run, paranoia built up. Constantly checking over his shoulder, waiting to see those glowing red eyes ready to drag him back. It should have been easy to find Stiles. Many times he climbed onto overpasses, screaming to himself. Sometimes he would shout his name to the oncoming traffic, wanting to hear it come back. Other times, he would scream his goals. Stiles would shout that he wanted to get better. 

Stiles found that calm in another country. Going off of movies, as reliable as ever, he moved to Australia. No otherworldly crisis could ever happen there. And of course, Stiles was wrong. Not that he ran with another pack, no, Stiles drifted with this countries supernatural fixers. The ones who removed all evidence a battle had gone down. He fixed the mistakes of supernatural, something Stiles had grown used to. And he specialised in fire. In better words, he had grown addicted. The red in the flames was a replacement for the red in his alphas eyes. The yellow was the replacement for the beta’s eyes. And blue. The heat of the blue flame flickering underneath it all, that was his replacement for the intensity of Derek’s eyes. 

A knock on his door startles Stiles. Casting the lighter down, he scrambled to his feet. 

“Um, come in.” Stiles said, a little unsure.

The door creaked open, revealing a co-worker. He grinned nervously before stepping in. Watching him fidget was starting to make Stiles uneasy, because it could only mean bad news. Mitchell was calm and confident, never nervous. 

“Well, Stiles, I know you hate the states now. Bad past and all that, but it looks like this place fucked you up more.” Mitchell grinned, and Stiles forced himself not to look at the marks before Mitchell continued. “And my cousin, he called from there. He is getting married and he wants me to be his best man.”

“Congratulations.” Stiles smiled, reaching to pat his shoulder in congratulations, but Mitchell held his hand up to stop me. “What?”

“And, ah, Sarah pointed out to me that you used to live there, so I bought three plane tickets. One for me, one for Jason and one for…you…”

“What!” Stiles shouted, reeling back.

“This job doesn’t pay much, and you might help us find a place to stay. Come on Stiles, help a brother out would you.” Mitchell pleaded, and Stiles knew what family meant to this group of violent misfits.

He had called Stiles his brother, meaning it would now be disrespectful to not agree. But that meant something else that Stiles had to do to make this all work. Reaching for his phone, Mitchell’s grin dropped slightly.

“Who are you calling?” He asked and Stiles forced a grin onto his face.

“Texting. Overseas calls cost too much.”

“That didn’t answer the who part Stiles.” Mitchell crossed his arms, standing a little straighter.

“My dad. I am going to message my dad about accommodation.” Stiles sighed, gripping his phone tighter. “I told you I left my old pack, I just can’t believe I am willingly going back there.”

“Hey, there is happy and sad Stiles. Hell, even good and bad. Don’t let the bad get to you. Just keep grinning and then you know you are winning.” Mitchell didn’t drop his arms, refusing to acknowledge the fact he had said something heart felt.

“Is that a quote from a chick flick?” Stiles teased and Mitchell set his jaw.

“Fuck off. Just pack your shit already. Try not to burn the fuckin’ place down.” He snapped before leaving the room.

Stiles breathed out a laugh before looking at his phone again. He hoped his father hadn’t changed his number over the year or so he had been gone for. Typing the message quickly, he made it as impersonal as he could. Stiles still couldn’t breath at night for the fear of his own dreams, still ached when he thought of how easily his pack cast him aside. Stiles was far from better, but at least he was trying.

Pressing send, Stiles grabbed his lighter again. Before he could even flick the flame to life, another person burst in. Sarah.

“Stiles, I know you don’t want to go back, but thank you for agreeing. I have the perfect goodbye present. A coven of vegan vampires slaughtered some livestock. Lets torch it.” She grinned, matching my own smile.

“Fuck yes!” Stiles shouted, casting his phone aside and grabbing a heavy coat.

Leaving his phone, Stiles barely heard the chime of a reply. He could read it later.

 

**Stiles, To Sheriff; Hey, dad. It is Stiles. I am coming back home with two friends. Can we stay at yours?**

**Sheriff, To Stiles;  Son, is that really you? Are you really coming home? ******


	4. Derek - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally see's Stiles again

Stiles was coming home. He had reached out to his father and now he was coming back home. Derek was bordering between relieved and pissed off. For the most part, he was happy that Stiles was coming home, but angry with how Scott had reacted. How Scott suddenly cared, how Scott said that Stiles couldn’t bear with the knowledge he had torn the pack apart. Derek had felt angrier before, he had even felt more betrayed before, but this still burnt up inside him. 

It was like something was repeating itself, a betrayal long forgotten. Derek could still remember the way Stiles would smile, hiding behind sarcasm and all the wolves ignored it. He carried on like a soldier with a battle wound to his mind. Not a single one of us tried to save him from his self-hate. Derek could smell the misery on Stiles before he left, but Stiles had smelt like that for years. It was a scent so commonly associated with that broken boy, and everyone ignored it. 

But now Derek had the chance to apologize, to right his wrongs. The sheriff had agreed with him that only Lydia should join them at the airport pick up. She was the only other one who had cared enough to, well, care. Standing close to the two, Derek kept scanning the crowds, waiting to see the familiar face he was waiting for. Lydia gripped Derek’s arm suddenly, lashing out. Following her stare, Derek finally saw Stiles.

After so many days, so many months, Derek finally laid eyes on the boy who haunted his dreams each night. Lydia started running, dragging Derek behind her. The sheriff quickly followed, running as fast as his aging feet could carry him. Lydia went to cast her arms around Stiles, to finally let out all the sorrow she was feeling, but a stranger deflected her arms. Taking in Stiles company, Derek slowly crept forward. 

Two men stood either side of Stiles. The blond one held a sardonic smirk, already a toothpick between his lips. He held himself loosely, a flannel shirt and plain jeans yet something about him screamed to Derek. This stranger was dangerous. No matter how much Derek scanned, tried to find something to give him reason, there was nothing. No signs telling how he fights, what he does. This stranger was unreadable. Lydia took a rapid step back, her mouth moving but no words coming out. The other man, he held himself tall. Tattoo’s laced his muscular arms, the dark skin making them seem more prominent. He smiled menacingly sweet, one of his arms cast around Stiles neck. 

Stiles had also changed. He was less wiry, filled out. His skin had a slight tan, his eyes less paranoid. His scent had changed. Stiles looked as if he was comfortable around the two dangerous men. Something was wrong here. What had changed Stiles to be this unreadable guy? 

The sheriff pushed past Derek and Lydia. He looked at Stiles, tears in his eyes. 

“Son.” He breathed out, and Stiles smiled.

Bracing himself for a touching hello, Derek turned away from the two.

“Sheriff. Thank you for picking me and my friends up.” Stiles said coldly, and Derek turned fast enough to feel whiplash.

“What?” Derek asked, and the blond grinned. 

“Mate, Stiles is part of our family now.” He drawled, standing up straighter to intimidate Derek.

“Are you seriously trying to challenge me? Did Stiles tell you about his life here?” Derek demanded and he laughed.

“Yeah, he did. Honestly, you guys treated him pretty shit. I thought wolves were more pack orientated. I’m human, and I seem to treat bonds better.” He laughed, and Stiles grinned.

“You told them?” Lydia almost screeched, back with us and out of her own head.

“They already knew. Not about your pack specifically, but they know about the lifestyle. Mitchell,” Stiles gestured to the cocky blond, ”used to be a were poacher.”

Derek shivered at the thought. Poachers were uncommon, hunting only alpha’s of any were variety. They were sick people with a lot of skill. Derek wearily backed down from the blond, Mitchell, before looking at the other companion.

“And this is…” Stiles was cut off by his friend.

“My name is Jason. This idiot’s best friend.” Jason leaned heavily on Stiles, and Stiles looked at him fondly.

“I didn’t know we were that close.” Stiles seemed to almost be teasing the man and Derek almost lost it.

“We have been worried sick about you, and you were just messing around with these two?” Derek hissed, Lydia backing him up.

The sheriff intervened. 

“Stiles, I am happy you’re home.” He said gruffly, wearily looking at the two new companions. 

“That makes one of us.” Stiles huffed in reply and Derek felt isolated.

This Stiles was different to the one that left. This Stiles held himself in a different way. The old Stiles held an air of false confidence, easily swayed. This Stiles held true confidence. Stiles must have seen the confusion swirling inside Derek’s mind because he smiled. Not the smirk he wore prior, no, it was a soft smile, barely noticeable. That single, shy little smile left Derek feeling some form of hope fluttering in his chest. Which was crushed by Mitchell.

“We are only here for two weeks. Weddings take preparation. We would be out sooner if my cousin got his shit together.” Mitchell sighed, and the Sheriff flinched.

“Ah, okay. Stiles didn’t say it was only for two weeks…” The sheriff began and Stiles grew cold instantly.

“Yeah, but we work. Can’t take a break for any longer than that.” Stiles snapped, Jason shifting slightly too almost seem like he was protecting the boy Derek dreamed about. 

“Can we leave this airport brother?” Jason whispered to Stiles, Derek’s ear barely picking up the whisper. 

“Hey dad, let’s leave already. Not a great family reunion here.” 

And everyone turned to leave the airport. Lydia was stunned, rendered silent for the first time against something that mattered. The sheriff was hurt by callous words, sending Stiles barely concealed looks. And Stiles, he was lost to Derek. 

Derek walked behind everyone, trying to figure the strangers out. Trying to find out exactly how much had changed about Stiles. Taking a deep breathe trying to decipher Stiles scent, all he smelt was fear and smoke.


End file.
